A Window Speaks

Shadows―
were lengthening.

I start mending myself.
Speechless―
you commence telling in signs.

Grass flattened. Glass―
in water. The body floats.
The game was over.

A new chapter opens without a book.

Another spurt of poetry.
I will never forgive me.
Fear becomes my guide.

The sound of decapitation
resonates. I lift the pen
and kill myself.

Satish Verma